


Headliner

by sugasneckpillow



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: A Mess of An AU, Corruption, Crime, M/M, Murder, PanWink - Freeform, Reporters, Slow Burn, Spies, ages are upped to fit story, chaebol! jihoon, everything is purely fictional, freelance reporter! guanlin, happy belated birthday guanlin, including the structure of governmental/police organisations, mystery au, news company au, side ongniel but I don't wanna bait ppl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-07-16 04:05:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16078040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugasneckpillow/pseuds/sugasneckpillow
Summary: Framed for the murder of his lover, freelance reporter Lai Guanlin was destined to face life imprisonment. After spending three years, five months and twenty six days cooped up in a tiny cell, a very wealthy young man shows up to offer him a sweet deal of revenge.





	1. Chapter 1

Distantly, he hears a few loud metal clangs ringing in the air. He stirs in his sleep, brows furrowing from the disturbance and his eyes flutter open slowly. They are met with a blinding light, and it takes a few moments for him to figure out that it is coming from the flashlight mercilessly hovering over him in order to wake him up.

When his brain starts to adjust, he slowly sits up in his uncomfortable uniform and puts a hand in front of his eyes to shield the light. He looks left and right, checking to see if the other inmates have woken to this disturbance. Strangely enough, they have not budged an inch, not at all bothered by the loud sounds the police have made when entering their cell. They are _dead_ asleep.

“Someone wants to see you,” comes the gruff voice from the obese policeman that had been guarding his cell all this time. Tagging along with him are two other policemen, whom he hasn’t seen before. Before he has time to process anything else, the policeman grabs his arm and spins him to press him on the bed, causing him to grunt in pain.

The policeman easily puts handcuffs on him in this position. They pull him up from the bed and gives him a second to balance himself properly so he can walk, and the two policemen that had come along put their hands on his shoulder and push him towards the gate of the cell.

It is long past visiting hours. His body tells him that it’s around three o’clock in the morning. He tries to think of who could possibly want to meet him, but the attempt is futile. There is no one left on this world that cares for him enough to want to meet him in this pathetic state.

He is escorted up the floors into an interrogation room, where the police sit him down and tie his legs to his seat, as if he could do anything to them or the person supposedly visiting him.

The door swings open again and he can hear footsteps coming from the person who has stepped into the room. _Click, clack_. It’s the sound of expensive, polished leather shoes, those that he had had the luxury to wear back in the old days.

The visitor reveals himself to him after a few slow paced strides to the seat facing him. When he briefly scans the person over, he can see that the visitor is a young man of the average height, wearing a sleek black suit without a tie and radiating the aura of a smart leader in the business industry.

What captures his attention is the remarkable appearance of the visitor, having the face that could easily fit in the category of ‘stunning’ in modern beauty standards, even for a male. His prominent double eyelids fold into fine lines like those in a drawing, his skin a perfect porcelain white. His gaze follows the crook of the visitor’s perfect nose to the plump chapped lips that form his mouth, that move in grace as he speaks-

“Lai Guanlin.”

He swallows, eyes flickering up to meet the other’s when he hears his name called after such a long time.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Park Jihoon.” The visitor sticks his hand out and smiles, his voice gentle as silk.

Guanlin eyes the small hand reaching out to him and looks at the visitor again. Park Jihoon, he says his name was. He must be toying with him. There is no way he could shake his hand, with his wrists bound in tight cuffs.

Jihoon seems to understand but he makes no move to withdraw his hand. Instead, he shoots the two policemen behind Guanlin a glance, who quickly walk over to take off Guanlin’s cuffs. The moment his hands are free, he wraps his slender fingers around his wrist and rubs gently on the red mark left by the cuffs, but his movement is disrupted when the visitor grabs his hand and shakes it, surprising Guanlin.

“You’ve been in jail for too long; must’ve made you nearly insane,” Jihoon says in a light tone, as if he hadn’t openly offended Guanlin. Still, he has made a point. The imprisonment has nearly driven Guanlin delirious, and if not for his dogged persistence, he might as well have ended up in an asylum and died as a nobody.

“Three years, five months and twenty six days,” Guanlin replies, his voice hoarse from just waking up. His words catch Jihoon’s attention, who leans forward to hear him more clearly.

“Say that again?”

“Three years, five months and twenty six days,” he repeats, drawing out each syllable slowly.

“And?” Park Jihoon questions.

“That’s how long I’ve been here in jail,” he tells him, all the exhaustion he had felt earlier draining from his body. “I counted.”

“Yes, you did,” The smile slips off Jihoon’s face and he nods. Jihoon lowers himself back onto his own chair and stares back at Guanlin, who doesn’t have the slightest intention of explaining any further.

“I’ll be frank with you. Do you want to get out?” The visitor makes eye contact with him again, and Guanlin can see immediately that this Park Jihoon is not playing around.

“I counted my days trapped in here,” Guanlin continues his sentence from earlier, his voice rougher than usual, “because as stupid as I may seem, I have found myself hoping that one day, I would no longer have to count.”

If he was expecting to be imprisoned for his entire life, why should he have bothered counting? Perhaps he craved for some form of justice, even if it seemed impossible.

“I want to leave.”

The young man called Park Jihoon visibly relaxes in his chair, and Guanlin realizes that he has given him the answer he wanted to hear. It makes him uncomfortable, but he cannot help but feel excited at the thought of leaving prison. 

“And you have every right to leave,” Jihoon tells him softly.

Guanlin jolts in his seat, fear shooting up his spine immediately. It occurs to him that the man in front of him must know something about his imprisonment, and from his eyes he can tell that the man perhaps even knows every single detail, and that may be the very reason he is sitting here, patiently talking to him about getting out of jail.

“Rest assured, I am your ally.” Park Jihoon comforts him when he notices Guanlin’s panic and nods towards the policemen again. They walk to Jihoon and lay out a pile of documents in front of him, which makes Guanlin wonder who it really is that he is talking to, and whether the policemen are actually Jihoon’s subordinates. Funnily, Jihoon does not look old enough to be out of college, much less be someone in command. Guanlin further wonders what his real age is, and what business he has in this kind of hell.

“I know everything there is to know about you. Your family, your background, your _lover_ ,” Jihoon stresses, and gives a moment for Guanlin to perhaps wince or flinch, but Guanlin does neither. “I also know why you’re here, and who put you here.”

“So?” Guanlin harshly shoots back, unimpressed by the information the other has on him.

“I am also a victim of the incident, and I would like to have revenge on those that killed _my_ lover.”

“Your…?”

It takes a moment for it to hit Guanlin, who this person is and why he’s here to coax him into leaving prison. It takes another moment for the shock and realization to sink in, for him to put two and two together and assume what it is that the other wants from him.

He gasps, eyes widening as he leans forward from his chair.

“No way,” he breaths. “Park Woojin is your lover.”

“Was,” Jihoon returns him a bitter smile. “He’s dead now.”

“I can’t help you,” Guanlin shakes his head, leaning back in his chair with a snort. If he is right about what Jihoon wants him to do, then it is absolutely ridiculous. “There are too many people involved.”

“I don’t care. I want them all dead.” The gentleness in Jihoon’s voice was perhaps an illusion, something Guanlin had imagined completely. He sounds so hateful just speaking these few words, and weirdly enough, they have the power to light up a little fire in Guanlin’s very core.

Yet-

“You’re crazy, you know I’m here because of them-”

Jihoon holds up a hand to cut him off. “Four years ago, you were a freelance reporter who had developed a particular interest in the case of Park Woojin’s suicide. Upon deeper investigation you suspected that the incident was not so simple. So you stalked those related to Park Woojin for information, and found some evidence that it was in fact a planned murder.” 

Jihoon pulls out a file and throws it to Guanlin, and it lands heavily on the space of the desk in front of him. Guanlin’s gaze drops to the file and he realizes that the file is a series of newspaper clippings that Jihoon has collected. 

“Sadly, in the process, you realized that the people behind the incident were not so simple.” Jihoon clicks his tongue, shaking his head in an exaggerated form of regret. “Before you knew it, you have already found out too much about them. Information about those rich, important people, and the things they have done that they should not have done. As a result, they had to shut you up.”

“If you know that those were the people that put me here,” Guanlin grits his teeth, “If you are _wise_ enough, you will know that you should not mess with them. Or you will end up like me. Or even worse, dead.”

“Look,” Jihoon crosses his right leg over his other and interlocks his fingers on the desk. “If you are willing to cooperate with me, I’ll help you get out of this hell of a cage. I’ll assist you in your revenge.”

“Revenge?”

“Yes, on the people who framed you for the murder of your lover.”

Guanlin shakes in his chair, the conflict within him rising and battling with his emotional distress caused by the rage that had been triggered by Jihoon’s words. He takes another look at the newspaper clippings in the file and sees the dreaded newspaper headline:

**Teen Dies from Carbon Monoxide Poisoning; Possessive Lover Suspected to be the Murderer**

On the right of the column there is a black and white image of his former lover Bae Jinyoung, his innocent face lit with the brightest of smiles as he puts his arm around a person with a mosaic on his face. He recognizes this picture; Guanlin had taken him to an awkward first date in a aquarium after they met and clicked in college, and they were posing in front of a tank full of sharks because Jinyoung had found them cute.

Guanlin swallows drily.

Guilt, sadness, anger, and more guilt. He feels sorry. Jinyoung did not deserve to die at such a young age, much less to repay for Guanlin’s mistake of sticking his nose into other people’s business. People with big names; people he should not have messed with.

“He died so young,” he whispers, his voice cracking and barely heard even in the silence of the room. A single tear trickles down his face; it was just like yesterday when he felt Jinyoung laughing beside him, when Guanlin saw him shivering in his sleep and put a blanket on him to prevent him from catching a cold.

“So did Woojin.” Jihoon pounds his fist of the table, disrupting Guanlin’s thoughts. Guanlin's eyes meet Jihoon’s, and he can see the anger burning like hot fire behind the pitch black pits. 

Guanlin has always been a passive person, he admits. As much as he hates knowing that he has been framed for a murder he did not commit, as much as he despises the fact that those people killed Bae Jinyoung to cover up their tracks, and as much as he abhors them for murdering innocent people, he wouldn’t have thought of escaping prison just to plot revenge against those who did wrong to him.

But this man before him is different. There is a burning passion and determination within him that motivates him to fight for what he feels is right.

Guanlin recalls stumbling across Park Woojin’s diary and knowing from it that he had a secret lover; he had not been able to find out who he was before he was thrown to jail. Now he knows.

“How old are you?” asks Guanlin finally, after taking a moment to calm down.

“Twenty eight.”

Guanlin nods. “I’m twenty five.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to die.”

“Then let’s die trying,” Jihoon’s lip quirk up, “is what I want to say, just because it sounds so selfless and heroic. But I’m sorry, those words are not in my dictionary, and I’m not ready to die.”

The words come less as a shock to Guanlin now, since he has started to adjust to this young man’s way of thinking. The more he listens to him, the more he finds himself strangely drawn to this person.

“Once you agree to my deal and have me backing you up, you have already eliminated most of your chances of death.” Jihoon grins when Guanlin stares at him in disbelief, as if he had expected the reaction. “Here.”

One of the policemen again understands his unspoken orders immediately, holding up a briefcase that Guanlin had not realized had been here till now. He puts it on the table, and from the sound Guanlin can already tell that the weight of the object within is no joke.

That is why, when the man dressed in police uniform opens up the briefcase and shows him what is inside, his heartbeat picks up immediately in realization that the person in front of him is no simple ‘lover’ of Woojin’s.

Guanlin has never seen so much cash at once. Stacked in layers and filling up every space there is in the briefcase are banknotes, fresh from the ‘oven’.

“I have the money, and I have the power. They cannot lay a finger on me even if they dare to,” Jihoon explains, as if Guanlin might not be able to catch the reason behind showing him this much cash. “Of course, if you wish to have some, I can give you salary for what you do in order to support your living-”

“If you have this much money and power,” Guanlin gasps as he tears his eyes away from the briefcase, “then why can’t you hire someone else? Why bother with me, a convicted criminal?”

“Because you have the information in your hands and you know fully well where to start investigating again without making a mess.” Jihoon’s eyes then soften. “And you are the only one who has gone through what I have gone through. You and I share the same tragic fate, and I am counting on you to recognize the potential of your unleashed anger in this mission to motivate you to complete your task.”

In other words, Guanlin is easy to use, and Guanlin knows it. He is a convicted criminal, desperate for a breath of fresh air and freedom, and he has no family or friends to go to. But he does have someone to avenge, and that coincides with Jihoon’s vision.

"So, will you assist me? In exposing those people and bringing them down?” Jihoon draws out another piece of paper from the documents in front of him and pushes it towards Guanlin. It is a full contract, Guanlin can see, and there is a place for him to sign it below. “In exchange for freedom and meaning in life?”

It is hardly a question. The policemen stand at each side of Guanlin’s chair, staring down at him threateningly. One of them puts down a pen and lays a hand on Guanlin’s shoulder.

Guanlin does not read the contract. What has he to lose? He signs the bottom of the paper and pushes it back towards Park Jihoon.

“That’s the spirit.”

Jihoon gets up from his chair and buttons up the front of his suit while the policemen gather up the materials on the desk.

“You will be released tomorrow.” The boy throws him a wink before he walks towards the door. “And I fed the boys in your cell some pretty strong sleeping pills. They won’t be able to bully you for a short moment.”

The door swings open and he can hear the people make their leave, The obese policeman that had been guarding his cell walks in, raising a brow at Guanlin.

“I didn’t know you were affiliated with such people,” he comments, a sly look on his face.

“Do you know him?” Guanlin asks, ignoring his mockery.

“Don’t you?” The policeman pulls out a wad of cash from his pocket, and it is obviously a decent amount of money. He smirks and unties Guanlin’s legs.

“Come on, boy. I’ve been told to treat you like a prince till you take your leave. No more handcuffs for you.”

After that, Guanlin goes back to his bed and falls into deep slumber. He dreams of finding Bae Jinyoung’s lifeless body lying limp in the car seat, head resting against the driving wheel. He dreams of silently obliging when the police decides to take him to the police station for further interrogation. He dreams of going to court and facing a trial that ended so insanely fast that he wasn’t able to keep up. He dreams of being nearly tortured to death by the brutes in jail.

The next day he wakes up naturally and the fat policeman hands him a nicely ironed set of clothing.

“You’re free,” the policeman says, and it’s perhaps the best two words Guanlin has ever heard in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bad decisions (aka this) are made 3 am in the morniing  
> twitter and cc: @encredame  
> feel free to talk to me and rant abt ur faves ;)


	2. Chapter 2

He slams his fist on the table, the little chain bracelet on his wrists jingling at the impact. He raises himself from his chair, the two people in front of his desk immediately cowering in fear of what is about to come. The air in the room tenses up significantly, and all seem to be aware of it except for one. The man in the corner stands unwavered with his arms crossed, checking his watch casually for the time.

“You’re telling me you bastards let the boy go without my permission? A _few days_ after I requested to reopen the case?” His chest heaves, the dim light in the room reflecting off his name badge on his uniform and causing it to glint menacingly at the two petrified officers at the desk. They squint their eyes and lean back, exchanging terrified glances occasionally. “Do you know how hard it will be for me to find the boy again? Either he gets another identity and fly elsewhere and we will never be able to find him again. Or worse, he gets killed on the streets, and it gets filed under a case of car accidents or whatsoever. I have come across so many cases where-” The man stops midway and inhales deeply, neck red from the rage. He grips down tightly on the table and looks his subjects in the eye.

“How long have I trained you two brain dead bastards for?” His voice drops low and he bends over the table like a predating tiger.

The two officers hesitate to speak. The fat one shifts in his chair and utters in a voice barely audible, “T-Two years, sir.”

“And how have you repaid me?” The man roars, grabbing the files on his desk and throwing them at the two people before him. They yelp and the fat one topples over, helpless and intimidated. Some of the files scattered across the floor lay open, exposing the yellowing papers within it. 

“Now, now, Daniel. There’s no need to get so worked up over something they had absolutely no control over.” The young man pushes himself from the wall at the corner and walks over to the desk, picking up one of the files in his way. He flips gently through it and brightens up when he finds the page he wants, slowly laying the papers in front of the angered senior officer.

“Maybe you should start focusing on something else.”

It reveals the picture of a handsome youth showing off his snaggletooth in a charming, mischievous smile. The picture is cropped in poor fashion, with the low definition of the picture and wrinkled edge on the right and the bottom dropping hints that the majority of the whole photo is missing.

The senior officer straightens up and turns towards the person intruding his little berating session with a glare. The nametag with the words _Kang Daniel_ imprinted on it shines brightly once again under the light.

“And you are?” Senior Officer Kang questions the man before him, one he had never seen before around the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency.

“I am Seongwoo, Ong Seongwoo.” The man sticks out his hand and Daniel only looks at it, with clearly no intention to shake it. The man withdraws his hand with a polite smile and draws out a name card from his chest pocket, putting it on the desk and sliding it towards Daniel. “I come with the words of Inspector Kim,” he looks at the two officers that look like they wished they were anywhere but in the room, “to dismiss these two officers.”

The officer that had never spoken gasps and grabs onto his chair for support at the shock of the news. “But we-”

“We only did what we were told to do! By the higher ups!” The fat policeman on the floor growls in disbelief, the fear from earlier quickly replaced by a look of indignance. “I swear, you could even ask them yourself, I was told to release Lai Guanlin and let him meet this boy-”

He is interrupted by Ong Seongwoo who had already walked to the door when they were distracted, and is now holding the door open with the all too polite smile on his face.

“I am informed by your so-called ‘higher-ups’ that you may leave.”

As the two people prepare to retort, Seongwoo holds up his hand. “I’ll have none of your nonsense. Like you, I’m simply carrying out my orders. If you have anything else to say, it would please you to know that there is a box that Inspector Kim puts outside his office for you to file complaints-”

“We will leave,” one of the frazzled men speak up, pushing himself off the floor. The other does the same, as it has dawned upon them that this is an incident that involves too many complications for them to have any part of it anymore.

“Before you leave,” Kang Daniel taps on the desk with a look of displeasure on his face from being interrupted by a man he’s never seen before. “You can keep the money you received from the man, Mister.”

The fat policeman flinches midway through his shuffling towards the door.

“But I hope you remember that corruption is the very core of the rotten politics in this country and that you, the moment you took the cash, had some contribution to the reason why it still prevails to this very day.”

Ong Seongwoo could not miss the disappointment that flashes across the officer’s face and his lips quirk up slowly. He watches as the two men lower their heads and scramble away from the room before he gently closes the door shut.

“What a charming lad you are,” he says the moment they are alone. Kang Daniel scrutinizes him carefully as Seongwoo repositions the toppled chair and sits. “Let’s discuss.”

“You kick them out but you’re the very reason they were even exposed to such temptation in the first place,” Daniel picks up the name card and glowers at it. “You’re part of the Board.”

“Correct, I’m from the Security Board.”

“But am I not correct about you being the bastard that ruined my case?”

“Whoa there.” Seongwoo holds up his hands. “Calm down. Why don’t you take a seat?”

“You have more to say?” challenges Daniel. He drags his chair close, the screeching sound of metal against floor ringing through the air, and lowers himself onto it. “I’ve been doing my job for more than twenty years. I’ve seen more than I should and I know that justice is a joke in the eyes of the people above. A week ago I found partial evidence that this young man was convicted wrongly, and just when I informed Inspector Kim that I wanted to reopen the case, the boy gets snatched away right under my nose and leaves no trace as to where he went.” He narrows his eyes at the man before him. “I doubt that you’re innocent of pulling strings behind this for whatever reason I don’t know of.”

Seongwoo crosses his legs and leans back, disturbingly relaxed despite the accusation.

“Is your hatred towards me because I am from the Board and you know I have the power to pull strings and make this a complicated situation for you, or should I say,” he gestures towards Daniel with a faltering smile on his face, “Is it not because of what happened to your deceased wife?”

The mentioning of his late wife strikes Daniel right where he least expected, and even if it was for a split second, Ong Seongwoo could see that crack in the armour of a strong but battered policeman. He could feel the overwhelming rush of emotions that leak out through his facial expressions, through the facade of an angry, controlling senior officer.

Kang Daniel has always been a professional in keeping his emotions in check when it comes to work. In whatever situation, work comes first. Work is priority. Work is his everything. Like any other aspiring policeman, he at first believed that justice shall prevail, as long as one follows his duty and actively defends justice. Throughout the years, though, this righteous belief of a twenty year old died quickly in the dirt of humanity he has witnessed throughout his course of work.

What happened to his wife, he felt, stemmed from his naivety as well as the disgusting power struggle and balance among those that had control over pretty much everything in society, and that he, in his position, could not do much to stop anything of that from happening. 

It’s the same helplessness he feels now, at this moment. Ong Seongwoo gives a good reminder of why he should do what he has been planning to do.

“I quit,” breathes Daniel. The moment he says it, it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and it feels good.

Seongwoo, upon hearing this, stands up from his chair and slams his palm on the table. Kang Daniel stares up at him and sees within his eyes the incredulity he’d hardly imagined would be expressed by the man before him after hearing such news. After all, he’d judged Ong Seongwoo to be the type that wouldn’t give a damn about the world if it collapsed, even though they’d only met for the past half an hour.

“You won’t,” Seongwoo’s voice is gentle; low and dangerous. 

Kang Daniel frowns. “I will. I’ve had enough of this. There’s no other reason for me to stay.”

“No other reason to stay?” Seongwoo scoffs, his hands bunching into fists. “What if I tell you that the Board has something to do with this as well? That I deliberately let your subjects release Lai Guanlin to this one man who can protect him? That this incident is related to Park Woojin’s case and by solving this case you will eventually be able to expose the nasty deeds of the Board, the government, and all who were involved in your wife’s death?”

Kang Daniel’s eyes widen and his body tenses. It takes several seconds for the information to settle in and he exhales.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t quit, but I’m listening.” He looks at the cctv camera and the surroundings. “Though this may not be the ideal place.”

Ong Seongwoo opens his mouth and is about to say something when the phone in his pocket buzzes. He fishes it out and his expression visibly stiffens when he sees the caller ID. Kang Daniel watches as the man swipes to answer the call and holds it to his ear.

The room falls silent and the only sounds audible are the blasting air con, Seongwoo’s quiet mutter of ‘yes’s towards the phone and the muffled sound of the person speaking from the other side of the line.

A grim look spreads across Seongwoo’s face when he finally cuts the call. Daniel raises a brow and gestures for him to explain.

“I take my words back. You should quit.” Seongwoo puts his phone back into his pocket. “But stay safe.”

“What?” Daniel laughs in disbelief. “In a matter of a few minutes you’ve given me an idea of how dire this situation is and-”

“That’s why you should quit.” Ong Seongwoo smoothes out the creases of his blazer as he straightens up. “It’s no place for a man who just wants some peace in his life after dedicating twenty three years of his precious time and sacrificing the love his life to this bullshit of an industry.”

“You’re too harsh there,” Daniel speaks through gritted teeth, a flash of hurt crossing his features.

“Goodbye. Till we meet again.” Ong Seongwoo walks towards the door and pulls on the handle. “And say hi to your daughter for me.”

The door clicks shut.

Kang Daniel pulls out a small bottle and opens the cap to pour out a few small tablets. He pops them into his mouth and swallows with several swigs from his mug. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he puts a hand over his chest to calm the aggressive thumping of his heart.  


* * *

“You say a lot more than you should when you face that man, don’t you, Seongwoo?”

“How did you even hear-” Seongwoo abruptly stops before even commencing the interrogation towards his young friend and he walks past the office with fast paced strides as he grits his teeth, hissing into the phone. “You know what, nevermind. You have your ways. What do you want? First you tell me to leak the information of the falsely convicted boy to Officer Kang so he would want to get involved and then you grab the boy out of prison? And now you tell me to encourage him to quit his job? What are you thinking?”

The chuckle on the other end of the phone is a disturbingly light hearted one. “He might be safer but he’d also be more open to scrutiny if he’s with the police. We want him to investigate, but _privately_. Think, Seongwoo, think. I’m starting to feel that you were the wrong person to assign to confront Kang Daniel because you’ve secretly liked him for so long.”

“Hey, I didn’t tell you about my feelings for you to mock me,” Seongwoo groans and opens the door to his car. “And I’m still older than you so you don’t get to talk to me like that, kid.”

“Okay, hyung. Anyway, do me a favour? Help me get Lai Guanlin, he’s at his flat and I’ll send you his address. I need him for something.”

“Now? But I-”

“Now go.” The line goes dead and Seongwoo hears a sound from the notification on his phone almost immediately. True enough, Park Jihoon has already sent him the address of the person he has to escort back to the young master’s home.

He sighs and ignites the engine.

“But I haven’t had lunch yet,” he mutters to himself, scowling as he drives out of the carpark and onto the busy roads of Seoul.

On a regular day he would either choose to go to cheap restaurants or the convenience store. Today, though, he feels like eating something fancier with someone else. He has all this money to spend but no one to spend it on. Perhaps it is about time he finds someone he can treat to everyday. If his mother were here she would probably scold him for not settling with someone despite being over forty.

Lai Guanlin’s address, surprisingly, is located in a rather high class area. Security is tight and Seongwoo found it relatively hard to even get into the building without being a resident.

“Never seen you around. Your residential card?” The bored man in security uniform asks.

“Uh, I’m a visitor.” Ong Seongwoo shows the address he was sent to the man. “I’m visiting someone in Room 1703. Lai Guanlin.”

The man looks at the address and narrows his eyes at Seongwoo, who sighs and pulls out his ID when he sees the suspicion in the other’s eyes. “You can keep it until I leave.”

The lift lets out a small _ding_ and Seongwoo enters. There’s an aromatic scent in the elevator and a mini television casting the latest news. Seongwoo is quickly able to conclude that this is not the kind of residence one can live in without having a certain amount in their pockets.

The lift door opens and Seongwoo glances around. There is one door on each side of the short corridor and he finds the one with 1703 printed on it quite easily. He is about to knock when he sees that the door is not shut completely and the edge of it seems to be poorly treated to the point that the wood is falling off unevenly. It takes a few more looks for him to understand that someone had tried to break in, and probably had successfully done so, quite a long time ago. A layer of dust had settled on the pieces of broken wood on the floor, and Seongwoo kneels to survey the ground. There, in the dust, though incredibly subtle and hard to notice, has distorted foot imprints to show that someone has entered recently. As a reflex, Seongwoo’s hand goes to the gun pocketed at his waist. He doesn’t know if the person in there is Lai Guanlin or some other hostile character.

He stands and pushes the door gently, which lets out a little creak that causes Seongwoo to tense up. Then he takes a glance at the living room. 

And exhales, heavily.

Simply put, the flat is ruined. Everything’s scattered on the floor, shattered glass lay everywhere, the posters and paintings on the wall are torn and broken, the television lies flat against the ground. Drawers and cabinets are opened and thoroughly rummaged through, and the small kitchen located on the right of the living room was not spared from the violence. 

Before he decides to walk through flat to the rooms he hears a crunch and he jerks his head up, immediately pulling the gun from the holster and pointing it towards the sound.

A boy stands in the midst of the wreckage, half shocked and half terrified, with his hands held up in a stance of defense. Seongwoo realizes with mild regret that of course it is Lai Guanlin, after all he’s just been released for a few days and where else could he go to except to his flat?

Sheepishly he withdraws his gun and puts it back in the holster, flipping his blazer so it covers it once again.

“You hungry?” he asks with an awkward smile.

“Um.” The boy looks around, his pupils shaking slightly.

“I suppose you are. Let’s grab lunch together, come on.” Seongwoo turns and is about to leave when the boy grabs onto his arm ever so gently and withdraws it as quickly as he touched him.

“Sorry, but who…?”

“Right, pardon me,” Seongwoo holds out his hand with his signature smile. “You can call me Seongwoo. I’m friends with Park Jihoon if that rings a bell.”

The boy takes a step back when he hears Jihoon’s name and Seongwoo briefly wonders what his young friend might have said to the boy to trigger such reaction. Nonetheless, the boy doesn’t seem scared at the mentioning of JIhoon’s name but rather, his expressions seem to relax slightly.

“Did you guys… do this?” the boy asks hesitantly, looking at the pitiful state of the living room. Seongwoo follows his line of sight and sees a few pictures on the floor that were torn from the wall, most of them of the boy and someone else he assumes to be Bae Jinyoung, his boyfriend.

“No, which means it’s not safe for you to be here. I’ll have Jihoon arrange somewhere else for you to stay.” Seongwoo’s eye twitches when he notices the flaw in that statement. “I mean, not that Jihoon is someone you should trust completely, but it’s better than nothing for now.”

Guanlin still seems reluctant to believe him, but it’s only natural. A low rumble disrupts the silence between them and Seongwoo looks up with a grin on his face, while Guanlin’s cheeks start to redden.

“I can see you’re hungry. Let’s grab some food. What cuisine do you prefer? I know a really good Italian restaurant down the street, and my friend frequents one of the Japanese ramen stores and he swears to its quality. Or, if you want, we could go get takeaway at a Korean food stall, I’m good with that too.”

“... Korean, maybe?” Guanlin puts a hand over his stomach and a small smile settles on his face. Seongwoo doesn’t miss how good looking the young man actually is under the frazzled appearance. After a good shower and shave and a proper makeover, perhaps, he will be able to dazzle every single woman on the streets.

“Sounds good.”

They step out of the flat and Seongwoo makes an effort to close the door as completely as he could.

“Got your valuables with you? Or taken anything important?”

Guanlin’s hand flies to his back pocket to check and Seongwoo raises a brow. It looks like a USB.

“I’m good,” he replies, quickly withdrawing his hand and trying to divert the attention from his movement.

They head down and Seongwoo collects his ID from the guard. As they step foot into the car, his phone rings, once again.

“Where are you?” Seongwoo can hear the annoyance in his young friend’s voice in the phone. “You’re taking so long.”

“Sorry, we’re going to grab lunch. You’re not going to starve us, are you?”

There’s a sigh and a slight pause on the other end of the line. Guanlin shifts in his seat next to Seongwoo’s, trying to observe him in a subtle manner and overhear their conversation. Seongwoo pretends not to notice.

“Where?” Jihoon finally asks after a short while of muttering to whom Seongwoo assumes is his assistant.

“A Korean stall down the street. We’re planning to get takeaway.”

“I know somewhere better if you want Korean food. I’ll send you the address. See you there.”

Seongwoo stops at the light and his jaw drops in awe. Park Jihoon hardly ever eats out. If he does, he books a room for himself and sits alone to eat in peace. That’s just how he is. The only times he’s seen Jihoon eat out with someone was when Woojin was alive. Well, that’s a long time ago anyway. From what he knows Jihoon is an introverted brat and doesn’t like spending time with others. He wonders what it took for Woojin to break that stone hard wall of Jihoon’s.

“Right, change of place, sorry. But we’re still going to eat Korean food.” Seongwoo gives Guanlin a thumbs up before he clicks open the address Jihoon has just sent him.

He blinks twice and looks at the address again to see if he’s seen it wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Guanlin asks when he sees Seongwoo frowning at his phone.

“No, nothing really. Just… Jihoon invited us to his home. To eat.” Seongwoo whistles and raises his brow. “Not in my six years of knowing Jihoon have I ever been invited to eat with him, let alone at his place.” He pats Guanlin on the back. “You’re a special one, I guess.”  


* * *

Guanlin doesn’t know what to expect when he finds himself being driven to a wealthy young man’s home. This man, namely Park Jihoon, hasn’t contacted him for days after his release. Guanlin contemplated on finding ways to contact him to thank him for what he’s done, but then he recalled what the man had said to him about revenge and realized that it is as much to Park Jihoon’s benefit as to his own that he be released.

This person in the driver’s seat beside him, Seongwoo, is someone he’s heard of but hasn’t actually met. If he’s right, this man’s full name is Ong Seongwoo. Guanlin has stumbled across his profile when he conducted investigations for reports on police misconduct. As casual and easygoing as this man seems, he knows that Seongwoo serves as an important bridge between a secret police organisation called the Security Board and the Korean National Police Agency (KNPA). The Security Board does dirty work for the police, and that is the main reason they are hidden from public eye. Nonetheless, they exist to serve justice, or at least they claim to do so. From Guanlin’s knowledge and experience, their dirty work can range from using illegal methods to extract information about potential terrorists to, as some rumours say, cooperating with triads to create social conflict so to set traps for more dangerous criminals. Whether they’ve murdered anyone for their aim of achieving so-called ‘greater justice’ is unclear at this point.

They are a dangerous entity, that much Guanlin can confirm. He doesn’t know why Park Jihoon knows Ong Seongwoo, or how Park Jihoon can confirm Ong Seongwoo is on their side considering that the Security Board very much has to do with Park Woojin’s death. But that is a question he will leave for lunch, or afterwards, perhaps.

It took half an hour for them to arrive where Park Jihoon is staying. It is a rather quiet and secluded area but it does not seem to be high class in an incredibly flashy way. The place is located in between the urban rush in the city and the rural countryside. Therefore, though there are only few cars passing by, it is not that far from civilization either. All in all, it’s a good place to be.

There’s a lot of greenery surrounding the sparsely distributed houses and it overall gives a very calm and relaxing vibe. It seems like a resort, more than anything. Seongwoo leads him to one of the relatively more modern houses on the end of the private area. It’s a beautiful house that is well taken care of. From what Seongwoo has told him, it would seem that this Park Jihoon lives alone in this house, though it could clearly fit seven or more people. Or maybe he lives with servants. A house of this size should be of exorbitant price, especially in a packed city like Seoul; not to mention the convenient and quiet location.

Seongwoo goes up to ring the bell.

It takes less than a few seconds for someone to answer the door. For some reason, Guanlin didn’t expect it to be Park Jihoon himself.

He also didn’t expect for Park Jihoon to be in casual wear. Casual, as in- 

Wait, are those rabbit slippers? It takes a moment for the idea to kick in. Park Jihoon: young, rich businessman, having the power to release a criminal convicted of murder with one snap of the finger, and persuading him to take revenge on those that killed off Park Woojin- in fluffy, white, absolutely _adorable_ rabbit slippers?

Guanlin isn’t able to stop himself from scanning the person before him up and down thoroughly. With ruffled brown hair and bangs falling down the front of his eyes, wearing a khaki coloured jumper paired with grey sweatpants, he leans against the door frame in a slightly sluggish manner. Droopy double eyelids, a clean pale face free of acne, and a lazy smile. Lai Guanlin has never seen anyone so effortlessly stunning.

“If you’re done staring you can come in.” Park Jihoon turns on his heels and pushes the door wide open for them. Guanlin’s breath hitches and he reddens slightly when he realizes he’s been caught gawking. “I’d say excuse my attire but it’s not office hours, nor is this my office. Also, lunch is ready.” 

Guanlin looks at Seongwoo, who gestures for him to walk in first. Guanlin can only sigh and shake his head at his previous embarrassing behaviour as he steps into Park Jihoon’s house.

The interior design of the house is best described as simplistic and modern in a comfy manner. He politely takes his shoes off on the steps when he sees that the floor in front of them is covered in light brown carpet. He can see Jihoon stop and watch him, his neck prickling as the man’s gaze burn through him. Seongwoo, on the other hand, does not bother taking his shoes off and just steps right in, chuckling at Guanlin’s manners.

“I feel bad for not doing that but I prefer keeping my shoes on. My laces take ages to tie up.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Jihoon rolls his eyes. “Who wears shoes with laces nowadays anyway.”

Guanlin places his shoes carefully at the side and steps in, watching the shadow of the two grown men as they continue to banter. He trails after them, surveying his surroundings at the same time. On the walls on both sides of the corridor, Guanlin keeps finding pictures of people, but none of them have Park Jihoon in it. A figure keeps appearing in the photos, and it doesn’t take much for Guanlin to figure it to be Park Woojin.

He stops at the end of the corridor.

There’s a small picture, framed prettily in plain white borders, placed at the very corner where the corridor ends. The picture is a selfie Park Woojin has taken with Park Jihoon, and it’s the only photo in this corridor with the current owner of the house in it. Park Woojin beams happily into the camera, his snaggletooth showing as he drapes his arm around his boyfriend. Park Jihoon is not looking at the camera, but at Park Woojin. The look communicates a sense of warmth and lovingness, both of which Guanlin had not been able to find any trace of in Park Jihoon’s personality. Jihoon also seemed much younger back then, his expression more carefree and less controlled. Guanlin feels like he’s able to catch a glimpse of bright and innocent youth in who now appears to be a reserved businessman in the picture.

A waft of smell of the delicious food that must be coming from the living room hits him and his stomach rumbles again. Guanlin hasn’t really eaten properly these few days ever since he’s been let out of prison. He’d been feeding off instant food from the convenience store and clearly it’s not enough for a grown man like him.

He tears his eyes from the picture and heads down the corridor to where the voices are.

“Took some time to admire my photos, didn’t you?” Jihoon murmurs when he sees Guanlin entering the living room. Guanlin is about to open his mouth to make up some excuse but he decides not to and nods instead. Park Jihoon is too smart to fool.

On the rectangular table, a colourful assortment of Korean dishes are laid out in front of him. There are seaweed rolls, a boiling hot red stew, bibimbap in clay pots, blood sausages, and a wide range of side dishes. Guanlin is in awe of the variety and he scans the room for sightings of servants or at least a chef. To his surprise, there is none.

“What do you think of them?” Park Jihoon asks, laying out the chopsticks for the three of them. Seongwoo takes the seat opposite to Park Jihoon, which leaves Guanlin no choice but to sit in between the two. 

“They look delicious,” replies Guanlin, still shocked at the fact that a man whom he’d thought was a spoiled rich kid would be able to cook such delectable looking dishes.

“Not the food,” Jihoon’s lips quirk up and form a little smirk on his face, which Guanlin immediately finds that he absolutely detests. “The photos.”

Guanlin stops midway in mixing up the bibimbap with his chopsticks and he looks at Park Jihoon, trying to read any trace of emotion from his face. He quickly gives up when he finds that he is unable to. There’s no point trying to figure out what this man wants to hear.

“There aren't many photos with you in it,” he manages to say in a low voice after taking a considerable amount of time to think. He continues mixing the rice and avoids eye contact with Park Jihoon, and Seongwoo isn’t really helping by simply indulging himself fully with the food.

“I don’t like being in photos, that’s all.” Jihoon shrugs and picks up a blood sausage to place in Guanlin’s bowl.

The action catches Guanlin off guard, and causes Seongwoo to cough violently after he choked on his rice.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jihoon looks at Seongwoo in distaste, who puts up a hand to wave at them and tell them he’s fine. He grabs his cup and downs it, patting his chest as if it will help the food get down his pipe easier.

After he’s calmed down from the food disaster, Seongwoo breathes out and takes Guanlin’s cup, chugging the water within it as well. Then he wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands up.

“I don’t know why but I feel like I’m third wheeling here. Well, that’s it, this uncle is out. Goodbye kids, have a good meal.” He walks to the cupboard to take out a plastic container and dumps the rest of the claypot rice into it as well as some of the side dishes. Throwing Jihoon a sideways glance, he clicks the lid of the container shut and leaves the living room in a hurry. Not long after, they hear the door slam shut, and the two are left alone in the living room.

All of that happens in a matter of minutes, and Guanlin finds it hard to process what had just happened. What exactly had just happened? 

Park Jihoon breaks the silence first.

“Pardon him. He’s a lonesome fella who yearns for some love but he’s also too cowardly to confront his crush about his feelings. Poor guy is already forty five and he hasn’t settled with someone yet.” Park Jihoon turns to stare Guanlin in the eye. “Well, now that he’s out, why don’t we talk? About some serious matters.”

“Serious matters,” Guanlin repeats after he swallows the spoonful he had just eaten.

“Yes, serious matters,” Jihoon nods towards him, “like that USB you have in your back pocket and how helpful the information within it is to me.”

Within two seconds the words trigger Guanlin to go into alert mode. His hand flies protectively to the back of his waist, just above the pocket. His heartbeat picks up, and he narrows his eyes at Park Jihoon.

A dangerous man, he is. To have had him, Lai Guanlin, let his guard down for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I haven't been on ao3 for months but it's holidays and I wanna do a little something for panwink in this limited amount of time they can still spend together in a group. A lot of you must be weeping for what is about to come but I trust that there is much more to anticipate for the future of wannaone, don't you worry. Merry late Christmas and Happy New Year (soon) I'm not dead on twitter and I still receive notifs so feel free to follow me and dm me, or if you want just cc me. Love you all and enjoy your holidays!


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